


Dreamwalker

by pennylehane



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bisexual Character of Color, Dark (kinda), Dream Manipulation, Dreams, F/M, Gay Character of Color, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Magic, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Not At All Explicit, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory Negotiations, Possible Pyromania, Slightly Weird Pseudo-Incestuous Offscreen Dream Sex, Superpowers, Tagged for Disturbing Themes, dream powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 17:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13104984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennylehane/pseuds/pennylehane
Summary: Eliza and her sisters have always had the ability to walk through dreams, to shape them, control them. She would never use this power to hurt anyone, least of all her husband, but there are some temptations too great to resist.





	Dreamwalker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fanfictiongreenirises](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/gifts).



It was vindictive. 

 

She  _ knew _ it was vindictive. And cruel. And probably, in at least a loose understanding of the term, at least somewhat illegal. 

 

But it wasn’t the worst dream she had ever sent anyone, because even the most loving sisters could be hellions in their teenaged years with new powers to explore. 

 

“Didn’t you try this out on Peggy once?” Angelica asked, reclining on a bench that wasn’t there to watch the firestorm. 

 

Eliza shrugged. “She wasn’t traumatised.”

 

“Like fuck I wasn’t.”

 

“Peggy!” Eliza would have jumped out of her skin if she had any here, too distracted by puppeteering Alexander’s nightmare to notice her sister’s arrival. 

 

Angelica huffed in disbelief. “Finally. I have to wake up in two hours.”

 

That could be an eternity here. Could be a matter of seconds. Peggy shrugged, memories of her night out flitting through the air above him. “Thought I smelled smoke. What did he do?”

 

Eliza fluttered her hands dismissively, and then glared down at them. Seven fingers on each. 

 

Angelica grinned, jagged as a mako shark, and sang in a little-girl-voice. “Alex has a  _ cruuush _ .”

 

“Oh, boy.” Peggy settled down to watch the bonfire, visions of marshmallows dancing over her head. 

 

“He was dreaming about his toyboy,” Angelica went on, undeterred by the shower of sparks splashing over her. “Pretty steamy. All rope and rose petals. I never took him for a romantic.”

 

“We know. We’ve seen you dreaming it,” Peggy sniped. 

 

“Hey, I let you keep him.”

 

A long, snaking arm of flame wrapped up her arm, not burning. “Let me?” Eliza asked. 

 

Eliza had never played with them, when they were teenagers. Or rather, she’d played with them, and them alone, never wanted to join when they preyed on the boys at school, gave them sweet dreams of sweet doe eyes or nightmares of sharp teeth and open seas. Until she met Alexander. 

She’d given him such beautiful dreams. She’d never touched him in them. Scarcely even appeared to him, watching his delight as he walked in the gardens she had built for him, hidden behind pillars and peeping out through waterfalls. Once they were married, she could stay with him every night, if she wanted. Their wedding night, she had seen him dream of stars, and knew he was hers. But dreams were fickle, flighty things. Alexander was a man prone to devotion, if not fidelity. 

 

“I let him have them, when I’m in them,” Eliza protested. 

 

Peggy scoffed. “Oh, well aren’t you sweet.”

 

“He can dream about whoever he wants as long as he remembers who he’s married to!”

 

“That’s a very pretty way of saying you have imaginary threesomes with your husband’s crush.”

 

“You have imaginary sex with your brother-in-law,” Peggy pointed out. Both of her sisters broke off their bickering to glare at her. “You  _ do _ .”

 

Eliza let Alexander’s dream burn itself out and fade to nothing. He needed his rest. She made sure she had arms, and then folded them primly. “Are you quite done?” 

 

“Yes, yes, all right.” Angelica stretched. “It’s about time I woke up, anyway.”

 

“Good morning,” Eliza murmured as they embraced. 

 

Angelica wrapped around her. “Be careful with that one, love.”

 

“I will.” Eliza slipped into deep sleep only moments after her sister left, and didn’t wake until morning. 

 

***

 

She never woke before Alexander did, even when she put him properly to sleep. By the time Eliza had made her way into the kitchen he was already at the table, annotating the newspaper as he drained his coffee. She pressed a second cup into his hands and slid him a plate of toast. 

 

“Best of wives,” he said warmly, not looking up. She slipped into the chair next to him, tilting her head down when he still wouldn’t meet her eyes. He sighed. “I have a friend visiting from out of town.”

 

“John?” she asked, startled. 

 

He twisted, staring. “How--”

 

“You talk in your sleep,” she said. Watched panic flutter under his pretty lashes. 

 

“I--” 

 

“Hush.”

 

He composed himself, and started talking again. “John Laurens. We served together, you met him, he was--”

 

“Your best man.”

 

“You barely spoke but you’ll love him, I know you’ll love him,” he assured her. 

 

The night before the wedding, Alexander had dreamed of watching his best man fucking her. It had been a very flattering performance. He had been tied to the footboard with silk and rose vines. “I love all your friends, Alexander.”

 

He burst out laughing. 

 

Eliza found herself giggling, not angry at all, excited and childishly in love with her heart fluttering against her ribs. 

 

“Will you come to dinner with us?” he asked, then, all doe eyes and wistfulness. 

 

She leaned forwards and kissed him. “Of course we’ll take him to dinner.”

 

“Thank you, Betsey,” he said, pulling back for a moment before kissing her again. 

 

***

 

Eliza remembered John being more charming, at the wedding. Though clearly, she was not the target of his charm. Alexander was besotted. 

 

She smiled as she watched him grow animated, his hand still on hers even as he leaned over the table with his eyes on the newcomer. Alexander’s gaze glittered over John’s tight curls and bright gold eyes. 

 

He had excellent taste, too, in more than just Alexander, ordering casually without glancing at the prices in the way that always made Alexander twitch when she did it.  Soft fabrics in sharp cuts, trimmed to form almost dainty angles on a frame of packed, corded muscle. His soft lips lay apart as he gazed into Alexander’s eyes, barely noticing her appraisal. 

 

He was uglier in his dream, that night. It was a good sign, for her. He was dreaming of Alexander, too, and in the dream he seemed to glow. Not bright, tall, cut from marble and bathed in diamond-bright shine as he was in Eliza’s dream, but a soft starlight glow that danced in his eyes and tripped down his limbs as he moved over John, staring helplessly up at him. 

 

A second later she was under her husband, pressed between their skins and wrapped in their warmth as Alexander’s lips met hers, she tipped to the side, let him kiss his lover his cheek against her neck, pulses pounding together, not real, no, but perfect. 

 

“No…”

 

Something was wrong. 

 

John was stiff as a board under her, shaking, whispering, “No, no, no, no…”

 

She couldn’t. The dream crushed in her fist, leaving John alone, and her heart panged and she gave back Alexander to hold him, watched him tremble. His eyes were on her. 

 

Right. Still in his dream. “I suppose I can be sure you’re gay,” she murmured. “And I was starting to think you were pretty enough for him.”

 

The teasing must have been clear enough in her tone, because John Laurens laughed, and she left him to his pleasant dreams. Let herself slip back into the safe cocoon of Alexander’s. He was dreaming about their wedding night, high above the sky. 

 

***

 

“He loves you,” Eliza said. 

 

Alexander opened his mouth to talk, and then paused, looking at her properly. “Yes.”

 

“You love him.”

 

“I love you,” he insisted. “Betsey, I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you. And I’ve loved John just as long.”

 

“Longer.” 

 

“Longer. But I married you, Betsey--”

 

“He was best man at our wedding.”

 

“I--”

 

“You’ve been dreaming about fucking him as long as we’ve been together.”

 

“No--”

 

“And me,” she added. “Together. You talk in your sleep.”

 

He didn’t. “You’re not angry.”

 

“God knows you could never keep your mind on one thing. One woman,” she mocked, grinning. 

 

“Betsey,” he murmured, pushing close, lips against her skin. “You forgive me?”

 

“Of course I do, my Alexander,” she said just as softly. Then she pulled back. “Now, you do know he’s gay?”

 

“How do you--”

 

“I’m your wife, Alexander, I know everything.” 

 

He gaped at her, dumbstruck, for once. He never let anyone interrupt him except her, though he and John had tripped and rolled clean over one another’s chatter all through dinner. “I know.”

 

“I’m not sleeping with him.”

 

“I wouldn’t--”

 

“So you’ll be honest with me. Every time. Are we clear? And you come home at the end of the night. To me.” Eliza folded her arms, resolute. She knew, unfairly, that she was pouting slightly. Peggy would have laughed at her. 

 

Alexander stood so fast his chair clattered to the floor and kissed her senseless. 

 

***

 

“You’re having sex dreams about my husband,” Eliza complained. “Again.”

 

Angelica shrugged. “He’s hot.”

 

“You’re gross,” Peggy said, trailing them both into her own dream of glass meadows. 

 

“He is pretty hot,” Eliza said, noting absently that they were teenagers again. 

 

Peggy rolled her eyes and flopped down in the snowdrops. “You’re  _ both _ gross,” she sniped, all of twelve. 

 

“Don’t tell me you don’t think he looks pretty with that boy of his, my love,” Angelica teased, helping braid Eliza’s hair where she sat at their mother’s dresser. 

 

She grinned, soft and sweet. “I wouldn’t let them do it if I didn’t.”

 

They giggled, comforted as the sky of Peggy’s dream deepened to flamingo pink. Eliza knew,still, that Alexander had just come to bed, hours late, and was already dreaming of being caught between herself and John, gasping and writhing. 

 

“I will have to talk to John,” she murmured. 

 

Angelica tugged a strand of hair gently. “Play nice with poor Alex. He’s too pretty to break.”

 

“I was never the one who used to break them,” Eliza chided. 

 

Her sisters shrugged, unrepentant. “Isn’t that half the fun?”

 

“You’re a psychopath, Peggy,” Angelica accused in mock horror. 

 

Further still from her mind, John was dreaming of Alexander. Closer yet, the Eliza in Alexander’s dream dipped to pin him, to whisper eternities in the shell of his ear. 

 

Angelica sighed, delighted. “You  _ are _ going to break him!”

 

“I am not!”

 

“Are so.”

 

“Am not!”

 

White fireworks burst soundlessly against the sky. Eliza held Alexander close as his dream turned innocent, played eagerly with her sisters in the pitchless field, watched hungrily as John’s dream grew and shifted out of her control. Let the time stretch, and blur, and lived eternities before she woke. 

**Author's Note:**

> I... I have no idea what this is. I'm pretty sure the Schuylers are all terrifying in this. I think Eliza might be the scariest. I'm not actually sure if she's trying to be a good person or just straight-up evil. 
> 
> So, yeah, this happened.


End file.
